


Learning

by dreamingoutloud



Series: Flawed-The Enjolras/Grantaire Song Fic Collection [6]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Boys In Love, Coffee Shops, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Established Relationship, Feelings, Fighting and making up, Grantaire is Kinda Broken, IDK I'm Bad At Tags Guys, M/M, Opposites Attract, Protective Combeferre, Songfic, Stop Being So Cute You Two, green river ordinance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4318983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingoutloud/pseuds/dreamingoutloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are about a hundred reasons Enjolras and Grantaire don't belong together: Grantaire doesn't understand Enjolras' need to help others, Enjolras is terrible with all things art, Grantaire is a wreck and Enjolras fails at feelings.  But there's one very good reason they do.  They're head over heels for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elliebeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebeth/gifts).



> This is number 6 in my songfic series from my E/R playlist. I've been trying to stick to once a week but I've had a dry spell in the world of inspiration. This is what finally came out so I hope it isn't as terrible as I feel like it is!
> 
> The song this week is Learning by Green River Ordinance.
> 
> "Let me be the one you run to  
> For the rest of your life  
> I'd give up everything to show you  
> To show you there's still time
> 
> I could be the one you run to  
> For the rest of your life  
> I'm still learning how to love you  
> You are the only one that's worth the fight"

“You two have nothing in common.”

“How do you even tolerate that level of cynicism? You’re like...polar opposites.”

”He’s way more experienced than you are, aren’t you worried about that?”

Considering these people were supposed to be their friends, Enjolras had heard at least a dozen reasons why he and Grantaire shouldn’t be together. And, to no one’s surprise, he refused to listen to anyone but his own head and heart. 

The thing was, they weren’t wrong. Like just that moment when he was trying to convince Grantaire that a sit in against the ridiculous prices of school lunches was a good idea. “It hardly matters, Apollo,” Grantaire argued, curling up in his arm chair looking like a cat who could get comfortable in any available position. “The rising cost of goods is going to raise the price of food. That goes for all food, not just fancy five-star restaurants. Don’t act like they’re targeting little kids.”

Enjolras huffed, his hair blowing out of his face. Why was it so difficult for him to understand? “But they don’t deserve it!” he insisted. “Kids have to eat. Sometimes their school lunches are the only meals they’ll get all day, why should they have to pay astronomical prices for them?”

The expression on the brunette’s face was a cross between skeptical and amused. His eyes were rolling but he was actually somewhat smiling. “Listen to yourself. If kids are that poor, they’ll qualify for free lunch. It’s hardly the end of the world. And the rest of them, why don’t they just bring lunch from home? Or the ones who are that poor and qualify for aid. Pack a sandwich.”

Those were the moments when Enjolras understood why his friends were so shocked that he’d be with someone like Grantaire. He truly didn’t grasp the vision that Enjolras had of a better world. A better future. “Is that what you’d tell your kids someday?” he asked, annoyance tinging his words. “That they can just pack a lunch? What if they’re watching their schoolmates go hungry?”

Dark eyebrows lifted and Grantaire got to his feet. “I don’t intend on having children,” he said simply. 

Enjolras’ eyes widened. Not that they’d talked that far into the future yet but he’d rather hoped... “None?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Grantaire studied him for a moment before reaching for his jacket which he’d draped on the arm of the chair. “Hadn’t planned on it. Unless, say, the right person wanted a family. And then maybe I’d think about it. I’d be a horrible dad, you know that.”

”You’re perfect with Gavroche,” Enjolras argued, and then he saw Grantaire reaching for his keys. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice hesitant. He hadn’t meant to make the man angry. Was this a fight? It was hard to tell with the two of them. Sometimes they were just annoyed with each other. Other times it was a knock down, dragged out, shouting match. This seemed somewhere in the middle.

To his surprise, though, Grantaire looked at him like it should have been entirely obvious. “Don’t we have some sit in to get to?” he asked, picking up his sketchbook. 

Enjolras’ face broke out into a beaming smile and he took his boyfriend’s hand and leaned in for a quick kiss before dragging him to the door.

***

He was still getting used to the feel of Enjolras’ hand in his. He liked it. It was just the right size to offer a comforting sort of hold. When their fingers threaded together, it felt like the perfect link. And the fact that it was Enjolras, a man so revered by so many but who only had eyes for him, made it that much more special. 

When Enjolras had said he could pick the date that afternoon, the art gallery was the first thing that had come to mind. It was their grand opening, so food was already taken care of. And champagne, though never exactly his drink of choice. What he hadn’t counted on was how his boyfriend, a well educated and intelligent man, had no eye for art. At all.

“I don’t get it,” he declared, tilting his head as he looked the painting over. 

Meanwhile, Grantaire was staring at it in fascination. When his boyfriend’s words finally registered, he turned and narrowed his eyes. “Seriously? It’s obvious. It’s a metaphor.”

The laugh Enjolras gave was weak. “Is it, now?” he asked, amusement in his voice. “Help me out here, Taire, because I’m not following.” 

Grantaire hesitated as he tried to grasp how to explain it. “Okay, you know your history, I know you do. Picture this as the fight between the druids and the Christians. Trying to wipe all magic out of the world.” His eyes turned from his own bit of magic to the painting in front of them. He let the colors seep through him, the varying shades of blue and gray side by side with the oranges and reds that seemed to spark on the canvas. Down the middle was an even white stripe, so straight the artist may have used a ruler. “You can see that this side-the blue here-is winning. There’s more of it and they’re advancing from further back. But the orange and the red, it’s all fighting and gets brighter the closer to the fight it gets. It’s like...” He paused. What he wanted to compare it to was risky. Enjolras might take offense. “It’s like you and me. When we’re going back and forth over some issue or another and it’s building and getting worse but somehow, in the end, it’s beautiful.”

Finally his eyes turned back to the man he loved and found his eyes not on the painting, but on Grantaire himself. He actually felt his cheeks color under his gaze. “What?” he finally blurted. 

“I don’t understand how you saw that in this painting,” Enjolras admitted with a rueful smile. “Honestly, I don’t. It makes no sense at all. But damn I love to hear you talk about it.” Releasing Grantaire’s hand, he moved to slide his arm around his waist. He took a chocolate dipped strawberry from one of the passing plates and guided him to the next piece. “Tell me about this one, now.” 

Before Grantaire could begin talking about it, he found himself being fed a strawberry.

***

“How can you drink that?” Grantaire asked, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

Enjolras laughed and swirled his drink with his straw. The half tea-half lemonade was a recent favorite of his, but even if it hadn’t been, Grantaire still would have judged his drink of choice. Black coffee or something, anything alcoholic. That tended to be more Grantaire’s style. At that moment, it was the first option. Mostly because his boyfriend had dragged him to a coffee shop. He felt so incredibly mainstream. “Hush, Grantaire,” Enjolras urged, grinning. “I didn’t ask you to have any. Though you should. Change things up once in a while. Add a flavor to that thing,” he urged, nodding towards the drink in Grantaire’s hand.

The expression on Grantaire’s face could only be described as a scowl. His brow wrinkled, his eyes narrowed, and his lower lip jutted out just slightly. Actually...he supposed it could be considered a pout, which made Enjolras smile. “Do not even discuss ruining a good coffee. Which...this actually isn’t. Do people actually make dates here?”

“Yes, Mr. Grumpy,” Enjolras teased gently. “Like us, for instance.” As if to prove his point, he found a seat near the window and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and looking up expectantly. For Grantaire to not join him now would just be in poor taste.

“This is why I should get to choose the dates,” Grantaire grumbled. Yet there was the barest hint of a smile on his lips and the blonde smiled. While he should have been annoyed with the complaining, he couldn’t be. It was kind of cute. In an irritating sort of way. 

Leaning over, he wiped a spot of coffee off of his boyfriend’s upper lip. “See, I would have kissed that off,” he began, smirking, “but plain black coffee is just gross.”

Despite his insistence on being cranky, Grantaire smiled just slightly. “It wouldn’t have been plain. It would’ve been Grantaire flavored.” 

Enjolras was beaming impossibly brightly by that point. No, they didn’t agree on drinks. Or even date locations. But this? This he loved. The light banter, the teasing, the playful edge to their voices when they were together. When that started, he could almost forget the injustices of the world around him for a moment. At least, until his overly cynical boyfriend fired back at him.

***

“Taire?” he knocked softly on the door, concern evident in his voice. 

It was at least a minute before he heard the muffled reply, “not now, Apollo.” 

Typically, now that they were together, Grantaire only called him that when he was teasing him. Or when he was drunk. And Enjolras was fairly certain that this time, it was the latter. “Grantaire, please. Are you okay?” He had a horrible feeling the answer was no. He was also afraid that if the answer was yes, it would be an outright lie.

No answer came for a time, but he didn’t leave. He rested his head against the door jam, listening. Finally, to his surprise, the door flung open. On the other side stood the man he was falling rather deeply in love with, but he wouldn’t be very recognizable. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin was pale, and his hair was a wreck. Next to Enjolras’ poised and polished look, he looked even worse. “The hell, you don’t take no for an answer, do you?” Grantaire snapped bitterly. 

While he probably should have been offended, Enjolras merely raised his eyebrows, easing his way inside. The flat smelled of alcohol and illness. A not entirely unfamiliar smell to him. He simply thought they were past all that. “You should know me better than that by now,” he said simply. He looked around. The amount of discarded bottles actually alarmed him. “Want to talk about it?” 

“No, I don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing to talk about. I’m a total screw up and I don’t even know why you’re here.”

At that, Enjolras’ heart broke just a little. He’d known Grantaire had self-esteem problems since long before they’d gotten close. It had been one of the main points he’d used against him during all those fights at the ABC meetings. That and his drinking. Both seemed to be at play here. “I’m here,” he began, making his way around the living area and picking up empty bottles, “because I care about you.” Because using the word love was difficult on the best of days. And now definitely didn’t seem like the time to bring it out. “Now. Can we talk about why you’re more wasted than I’ve ever seen you?” The goal was to keep his cool. Losing it on him now would not only push him away, it might make Enjolras lose him for good. And as far as he was concerned, neither of those was an option. 

Grantaire dropped to the sofa, burying his head in his hands. “You deserve better than this,” he muttered.

Taking the time to gather his thoughts, Enjolras dropped the empty bottles into the garbage before making his way to Grantaire’s side. He sat much more delicately, but he eased himself into the space at his boyfriend’s hip. His arm slipped around him, and without being asked, Grantaire moved to nestle into the warm space at his chest. “ _You_ deserve better than this,” Enjolras insisted. “You don’t see that, do you? How much better than this you are? You are, Taire. You’re talented, you’re smart, you’re hot as hell--” He paused while Grantaire laughed into his neck. “That’s what I want. Maybe I don’t deserve you, hell, I don’t know. I’m not good at relationships, and I know you think you’re not either. But we’re only going to learn if we do it together.” 

Not moving from the place in Enjolras’ arms, Grantaire groaned. “Why would you want to stay? Every time I start to get my shit together, this happens. Or I do that thing where I hide for days. Or...well, both.”

Laughing softly, Enjolras turned a bit to envelope the dark haired man more firmly in a hug. He played idly with the dark curls, his real weakness where Grantaire was concerned. “Like I said. I care about you. You’re not doing this alone. You’re one of the most important people in my life and I’m not turning my back on you when you need someone.” He really thought that might be the problem. Too many people had turned away from Grantaire over the years. He refused to. For all of his faults, for all of their differences, the man had pushed his way into Enjolras’ marble heart and he couldn’t let that go now. 

“Come on,” he urged, getting to his feet and holding his hand out to Grantaire. “Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed. Then I’ll clean up in here and come join you.” 

Though it was obvious his bender had drained him physically and emotionally, Grantaire’s eyes lit up with just that hint of mischief. “You should join me in the shower, too.”

Enjolras grinned and shook his head, turning Grantaire towards the bath and smacking his backside playfully. “You’re not graceful enough for that when you’re wasted. Go on, I’ll be in soon.”

***

It always seemed like the main focus of the meetings lately were to see if Enjolras and Grantaire would be trying to kill each other or if they’d be making lovey eyes at each other. As much as Enjolras wished they’d go back to focusing on equality, he at least did understand that his friends were wrapped up in the general drama of his life. 

Which was weird. He was used to starting drama in the name of others, not for himself. But that was another story.

“I still don’t understand why you’re with him,” Combeferre hissed under his breath one evening. 

Enjolras looked up from the district map he’d been studying and eyed his friend. The others had been slightly more accepting of the growing relationship. Jehan had actually been overjoyed, saying how it was about time and murmuring things about unresolved sexual tension. Courf had been a bit more hesitant, but had decided it didn’t matter, so long as Enjolras was happy. And Enjolras knew Grantaire was getting similar reactions from Joly and Bossuet. Though Joly had, at one point, stood up in the middle of a meeting and congratulated the two of them for ‘getting their shit together’. 

Ferre, though, had been resistant. He really didn’t think Grantaire was any good for Enjolras. He didn’t mind him at the meetings, even encouraged him when he challenged their ideas with the same obstacles they’d likely meet from the politicians they would present in front of. Dating his best friend, though? Subjecting Enjolras to his constant mood swings, his drunken fits, and his cynical put downs of the things Enjolras loved most? That he was more resistant of.

And despite his feelings for the dark haired man, Enjolras did see where his friend was coming from. So he leaned back in his chair, looking up at Ferre. “No,” he agreed. “You don’t. And that’s okay. All that matters is I know why, that I understand. You know something? Sometimes, even I don’t know. But I keep going back for more and he stays, so we must be doing something right.”

“He doesn’t even want to be here,” Combeferre argued. “Look at him. He’s doodling away while the rest of us are researching. He doesn’t take anything you say seriously. You don’t need that in your life, Enj.”

To that, Enjolras actually smirked. His lips twitched upwards and his head cocked with a smug expression. “Actually,” he began, pride filling his voice, “he’s working on a piece I asked him for. We’re sending an editorial in to the paper together regarding the school lunch debate. I asked him for a sketch to send with it and he agreed.”

Combeferre’s eyebrows shot so high that Enjolras had to laugh. He resembled a cartoon character himself. “I... Since when does he back the school lunch idea? Wasn’t he the one most against it?”

”He was,” Enjolras agreed with a shrug. “But... I guess sometimes you do strange things for people you love.” 

Because as different as they were, as new as they both were to being in love, there was no denying the truth. They _were_ in love. Very much so. And they’d learn to deal with their differences and make it work if that’s what mattered most to them.


End file.
